


Better Than The Rest

by Curupia



Series: ZsaszMask drabbles [2]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Begging, Biting, Bottom Roman Sionis, Bottom Victor Zsasz, Cockrings, Daddy Kink, Degrading Talk, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Jealousy, Jealousy Kink, Lack of Communication, Lots of it, M/M, Massage, Murder, Murder Kink, Overprotective Victor, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slapping, Spanking, Switching, Top Roman Sionis, Top Victor Zsasz, Topping from the Bottom, Under-negotiated Kink, codependent psychopaths, marking kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curupia/pseuds/Curupia
Summary: Roman has a stressful life and he needs his massages to relieve that stress. Victor doesn't like other people touching his boss, so he deals with it the way he deals with most things. Violently.**************It sounded like Roman needed a reminder of what Victor could do for him, and Victor was more than obliged to give it.His hands tightened on Roman’s shoulders, sliding inwards with threatening intent.“You think they could do anything for you better than I can?”He could feel the anticipatory inhale from the body beneath him.“Massages aren’t exactly your field of expertise, Mr. Zsasz.” The reply was smug, goading, no longer disinterested in the evening’s proceedings.“No, but using my hands to make you moan like a slut is; it’s not that different.”
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz, suggested Roman Sionis/Others
Series: ZsaszMask drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685887
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	Better Than The Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This bloomed out of the breakfast scene when they're talking about the Crossbow Killer killing people Roman owns and Victor says "I know that." Made me think about a time when maybe he didn't. Also, the shoulder massage. How could I NOT go there?

The first one didn’t count. He’d been stressed and she had hurt Roman - what was he supposed to do? Let her get away with it?

The bitch was dead as soon as the “ow” left Roman’s lips. Victor had just needed to wait until she’d finished with the massage and left before finalizing her fate.

He didn’t tell Roman, but he wasn’t hiding it _per se._ He’d killed plenty of people Roman didn’t know about. It was never a problem. Sure, he’d feigned ignorance when Roman tried to book her again only to be told she was permanently unavailable, but not because he’d done anything _wrong_. He just didn’t feel like going into the details. No need to upset Roman unnecessarily. The man had enough on his plate to begin with.

The second one _may_ have been impulsive, but the prick was walking around acting like he was hot shit because Roman had winked at him after their third session. Roman fucking winked at _everybody_ , no need to start developing a crush over it. And there was _certainly_ no reason for him to come to the Black Mask Club and try to talk to Roman. The kid had no understanding of the difference between a business relationship and a personal one.

Victor took it upon himself to teach him.

By the third, Victor could maybe admit - if only to himself - that things were getting a little out of hand. The excuses we’re getting flimsier. Not that he’d ever needed a _reason_ to kill, but he was stepping into dangerous territory killing people Roman owned without explicit permission or reason.

He’d walked in on her running her slimy hands down Roman’s chest, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, fingers combing through thick chest hair. That couldn’t be standard massage practice. Was she even certified in... whatever the hell it was she should be certified in to be performing massages on people? Probably not. Probably just some random cunt off the street taking advantage of the chance to get her hands on Roman Sionis (figuratively and literally).

Roman’s safety was Victor’s responsibility; he had to be suspicious, hypervigilant of the people Roman allowed around himself. Roman was too trusting sometimes, especially of a pretty face, getting more caught up in aesthetics than abilities on occasion. Sometimes Victor had to step in before things got out of hand.

He followed her home, heard her bragging about her newest client on the phone - no doubt the person she’d be spilling all of Sionis’ secrets too were she ever to have the opportunity - barely paying attention to her surroundings. She almost made it too easy, but he wasn’t that reckless.

He waited a few nights before paying her the last visit she would ever have.

After the deed was done and he’d cleaned up, he went back to the penthouse. He spent most nights in Roman’s company well into the morning, though never sleeping over. So often now that it would be suspicious if he didn’t go.

* * *

“Mr. Zsasz, you’re late,” Roman chastised as soon as Zsasz crossed the threshold. They had no prearranged time for him to be there, but he knew that didn’t matter. The world moved on Roman’s timeline.

“Sorry boss, I was tying up a few loose ends. Did I miss anything fun?” He closed the door behind him, hoping to get to the good part of the night without too much small talk. It wasn’t his thing, as much as he tried for Roman, he wasn’t equipped to give a shit about superficial subjects; they bored the hell out of him.

“It seems that a tragic accident has befallen my masseuse,” Roman casually answered.

_Shit._

“Oh?”

He knew. _Of course he fucking knew_. It took him longer to find out than Zsasz had been expecting, but he still wasn’t fully prepared to face up to his consequences so soon.

“That’s the third one in less than as many months,” Roman lamented.

“How unfortunate.” His expression didn’t change – he’d learned a long time ago not to let his face mirror his thoughts – but it didn’t matter. Roman didn’t need him to acknowledge what they both knew to be true. He waited for the tells he’d learned to look for that signaled a meltdown on the horizon, but he didn’t see any.

Yet.

He had to navigate carefully. 

“Hmm, indeed, very unfortunate. I’m a very busy man, Mr. Zsasz. My life is _stressful_ and I _need_ these massages to relieve the tension.”

_Huh_. Maybe he didn’t actually care; maybe he was just using them as foreplay. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d mixed sex and murder. Victor tried to regain control of the conversation.

“Of course, boss, but you know, there are plenty of other ways to relieve tension,” he replied, moving closer into the other man’s space. Roman raised an eyebrow, inquiring. 

“And what would you suggest? A nice strangling, perhaps?”

Victor almost flinched at the maniacal, knowing smirk, but he sidestepped instead. Distraction was always a useful technique. He stepped closer, leaning in to reply directly in Roman’s ear with a soft growl.

“A hot bath, a good _fuck_.” He put an emphasis on that last part, hoping he’d take the bait.

“I just got out of the bath.”

It was Victor’s turn to smirk. He started to unbutton his shirt.

“Where do you want me?”

It was somehow the wrong response, but not a full misstep. Victor could tell by the annoyed twitch that Roman quickly schooled into something a bit more thoughtful. Not quick enough for the assassin to miss, but fast enough that he obviously wasn’t going to address it. He didn’t have time to analyze it though, as Roman was already stepping away and barking orders at him.

“Take your shoes off.”

Victor scrambled to keep up – he was still learning the tracks of Roman’s emotional roller coasters and sometimes they took turns even he couldn’t anticipate. “That wasn’t a fucking request.” Roman’s tone held something Victor couldn’t quite decipher, but he wasn’t about to disobey. He _had_ killed three of Roman’s belongings – a debt that was still very much unpaid.

He knelt to remove his shoes, placing them neatly by the door just the way Roman liked.

“Come.” The order originated from the bedroom, so he cautiously followed, lingering in the doorway until Roman noticed him and pointed to the foot of the bed, exasperated despite Victor following his instruction.

“Since you’ve taken it upon yourself to deem my previous employees unsatisfactory, you get the pleasure of performing their job until we find someone suitable, ‘kay?” Roman patted his cheek, nearly hard enough to be considered a slap, and then moved to the side of the bed to disrobe. He dropped the fluffy white robe to the floor, standing before Zsasz in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He stretched out on to his stomach in the middle of the bed and motioned nonchalantly to the nightstand where bottles of oils in assorted scents sat waiting.

“Proceed.”

Victor felt like something was off, but he couldn’t pin it down. Roman had obviously planned to get him into bed, but had seemed disappointed when Zsasz had suggested it first. Maybe he’d just been too forward about it – the other man usually had a _thing_ about control.

Roman cleared his throat, impatient as ever, so Zsasz took a seat next to him on the bed, still feeling like he couldn’t get his footing correct in this little dance. He looked over at the table wearily. This was definitely a test. He didn’t know shit about aromatherapy; how the fuck was he supposed to choose which one Roman wanted?

He opened each bottle, careful not to spill any, and took a sniff. The first smelled like an old man - muscle cream and peppermints - and he immediately shelved it. The second wasn’t too bad, kind of like an orange and something Christmas-y. The third though, that one he recognized immediately. It was fresh in his memory - hands flailing helplessly, pulling at his grip around her throat, reaching for his hair and finding no purchase - it was what the first one had used. He had no doubt.

He poured some into his palm and rubbed his hands together, heating the oil before touching it to his boss’s skin and catching the hint of a smile before Roman hid his face in the pillow.

First test passed, he guessed.

He started at the shoulders – they always seemed to hold most of Roman’s tension – and slowly, carefully pressed his fingers into the tight muscles until he heard a faint sigh. He continued, sliding his oiled thumbs up either side of Roman’s spine, radiating outward to scapula, shoulders, then neck, thumbs pressing against the base of his skull. Such a fragile, tender place to give someone like Victor Zsasz free access to. He felt the body under him tense when his fingers wrapped around the column of Roman’s neck, then let out a sigh that almost seemed disappointed when he moved on elsewhere. 

Roman was definitely in a mood. Zsasz would just have to keep treading carefully until he figured out which one. Usually, the boss gave hints, even if they weren’t always the easiest things to figure out, Victor would, eventually. That he wasn’t telling Victor directly what to do was a hint in and of itself, but it wasn’t enough.

So he did what he usually did when Roman’s mouth wasn’t telling him what he needed to know, and listened intently to his body instead.

Seemingly against his own will, Roman started to relax under his hands, making little huffs and sighs of pleasure he tried to hide. Did he not expect Victor to rise to the challenge? He should know by now Victor knew how to make him feel good. Maybe he was annoyed that _Victor_ wasn’t more annoyed with his punishment. _He needed more hints_. Or for Sionis to open his mouth like a goddamn adult and ask for what he wanted, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. Besides, it always felt like a hard won victory when he figured Roman out. He’d get there; he just needed a little more.

For once, luck was on his side – that or Roman was growing too bored to wait him out. Either way, he got what he needed.

“You’re really not making a strong case for why you’re any better than the others,” Roman remarked, sounding somewhere between bored and impatient – despite his body’s relaxed and pliant state – a dangerous combination of emotions for Sionis.

And just like that, it all clicked together and Victor could see the bigger picture.

Probably.

Otherwise, it was going to be a _long_ night of making up for his behavior if he was reading the situation wrong, but it was a risk he was willing to take. 

It sounded like Roman needed a reminder of what Victor could do for him, and Victor was more than obliged to give it.

His hands tightened on Roman’s shoulders, sliding inwards with threatening intent.

“You think those stupid cunts could do _anything_ for you better than I can?”

He could feel the anticipatory inhale from the body beneath him.

“Massages aren’t exactly your field of expertise, Mr. Zsasz.” The reply was smug, goading, no longer disinterested in the evening’s proceedings. 

“No, but using my hands to make you moan like a slut _is;_ it’s not that different.” He held his breath as he moved his hands over Roman’s back, waiting for the fallout. The crime lord used that kind of language on him all the time, fucking got off on it – they both did – but they’d never done it the other way around. Victor hadn’t thought he’d allow it, let alone _enjoy_ it, but the answering moan cleared up the rest of his trepidation. “See? Just like that.”

He wanted Zsasz to be jealous? Easy. No pretending needed, just a little performing, and he was getting pretty good at that.

He repositioned himself atop Roman, straddling his lower back, leaning in close as he continued the massage.

“Did you get hard when they touched you?” He put every ounce of disgust and hatred into his voice as he’d felt watching them put their hands all over his boss.

“No.” The denial rushed out a little too quickly. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”

“Shit, yes, ‘course I did. Didn’t mean anything.”

He pulled at Roman’s shoulders, bodily turning him over so they were now facing each other, Victor’s slacks barely dulling the heat of Roman’s groin against him.

“Did you want them to jerk you off? To ride you? _To fuck you_?” It was more of the question: _what do you want from me tonight?_ than anything else. In the entire year he’d been working for Roman he’d never once seen him give a moment of genuine sexual interest in anybody. He’d kind of assumed the man just wasn’t into it at all. Sure he’d entertain a lap dance at the club on occasion and flirt with everything with a pulse, but that was all persona; it was who he wanted the world to see him as, not the person he was behind closed doors.

The Roman only Victor got to see.

“Yes, _yes_.” Blanket permission, his favorite kind.

“They would have, the fucking sluts. Would’ve gotten off on just being allowed to touch your body. Probably did. Especially that last cunt, practically drooling for your cock the whole time.” He didn’t need to fake the angry snarl of his voice. He could still see the way she looked at Roman, like she had something to offer him, something he _wanted._ She didn’t.

“That why you killed them? You’re the only one allowed to drool for my cock?”

The sound of Victor’s hand connecting with Roman’s cheek reverberated in the otherwise quiet room. He almost second-guessed the action, but the aroused look on Roman’s face told him not to.

“Watch you whore mouth or I’ll stuff it so full you can’t make a sound.” His fingers gripped Roman’s chin tight enough to leave the memory of an ache in the morning, but the moan and shudder ripped from his body said that specific threat was having a less than frightening effect on him. Victor filed that information away for further use.

“I,” he leaned in close, voice a barely contained growl, “am the only one who is allowed to do _anything_ to your cock, understand?”

Roman had a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver up his spine.

“Or what?”

Another answering slap, this time the back of his hand connecting with the other cheek, careful not to hit hard enough to break skin or leave a lasting color. Roman might be begging for it right now, but come morning, there would be hell to pay if he had a mark on that pretty face.

“Or I will tear them apart piece by piece, starting with whichever piece they used to get you off.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a romantic. Are we going steady now, Mr. Zsasz?” Victor could read between the thick lines of sarcasm there to the heart of the real question Roman was asking.

_Is this a thing?_

“I told you: I’m yours, _just yours,_ for anything and everything. That means you don’t seek services elsewhere without asking first.” Another slap. “Got it?”

_Yeah, this is a thing._

Roman didn’t kiss on the mouth. He would let Victor do all manner of filthy things to his body, would even occasionally go down on Victor in the shower or right after, but he couldn’t stand the idea of swapping bodily fluids via mouth. “Barbaric” is what he called it – as if the way he’d spent the last month routinely fucking Victor into the nearest available surface wasn’t – so when he reached up and pulled Zsasz to him, biting and licking into his mouth like a savage animal, Victor was almost too shocked to respond.

Almost.

He grabbed a handful of Roman’s soft hair, keeping him close as he sucked on his tongue, grinding his growing erection against the hips beneath his. Roman broke the kiss with a sharp bite to Victor’s bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood to the surface. He licked it away gently before speaking, already sounding fucked out and they’d barely gotten started.

“Got it. Now get to servicing.”

Victor grinned, standing up to disrobe and taking the fluffy white towel with him. Roman was a wanton display without the last of his coverings: laid bare on a bed of burgundy Egyptian cotton, imported from Italy and costing more than half a month’s minimum wage, he was the very definition of decadence. He knew every one of his positive attributes and how to highlight them in the most exquisite ways – arms folded behind his head to broaden his chest and show off the definition of his biceps; one leg bent slightly, an invitation Zsasz had no power nor inclination to resist. 

Victor opened the second drawer of the nightstand with something very specific in mind and found what he was looking for almost immediately before climbing back on the bed, situating himself in between Roman’s parted thighs _._

He ran his still oil-slick hands up those thighs, over boney hips and soft, taut abdomen; scratched his blunt nails down firm pecs, thumbing at hardened nipples as the body beneath him arched into it. There was a feast laid out before him, and Victor a starving man. He kissed his way back down Roman’s body, hot breath teasing his half-hard cock before snapping a leather cock ring snugly into place at the base.

He caught Roman’s inquisitive stare, but wasn’t told no, so kept going. He had no intention of stopping until he was made to. Consent wasn’t something he made it a habit of caring about, but as always, Roman was the exception. If the boss wasn’t enjoying himself, no one would be.

And if it got Zsasz off just that much faster knowing he was the cause of that enjoyment? Well, his job was to serve, wasn’t it? Nothing wrong with appreciating a job well done.

He dipped his head lower, hands roaming everywhere, ignoring the fattening cock in front of him to instead mouth at Roman’s now constricted and sensitive balls until he was shoved off. He thought about tying those unpredictable hands to the headboard, but he liked the feeling of Roman struggling to push him away or pull him closer – the bite of his nails, the needy pinch of his fingers, the desperate pressure of his palms – too much to ever do it unless he was asked.

He dove back in instantly; not waiting to give the other man even a moment to adjust to the onslaught of sensations Victor was treating him to. A teasing lick revealed the extent of Roman’s premeditation of the night’s events.

“Strawberry?” Victor hummed, raising a smug eyebrow at Roman from his station between his legs. Roman’s already present flush deepened.

“You seem to have a fondness for the flavor.” He could’ve just asked – knew Victor never denied him anything – but of course, that would be too easy. Despite his skill and bravado, Victor occasionally got the impression that this – whatever _this_ was; sex and relationships, and trust – was all very new to Roman. The sentence was spoken as if ripped from his throat, but Victor had long since lost his sense of shame. And dignity – if he’d ever had that to begin with – and pride. Irrelevant societal constructs meant to keep you from experiencing all of the pleasures life has to offer.

“All ready for me to eat you up.” He would show Roman what he’d been missing out on. 

He resumed the teasing, light swipes of his tongue, hands kneading the plump ass, thumbs spreading him wide. It took barely a minute before Roman was spreading his legs and grabbing at Victor’s head.

“Thought you were going to show Daddy a good time, not fucking frustrate me to death.” Roman had only used to nickname once before, but Victor had known it would come up again. He’d nearly come on the spot when Victor had asked Roman to fuck his face with a “please Daddy” and a pout, so it wasn’t a surprise to hear the term fall from his lips. Victor wouldn’t say he had a daddy kink, but he wouldn’t _not_ say it, either. Being a good boy for Roman had a definitive effect on him.

“Who says I can’t do both?” Despite the taunt, Victor gave him what he wanted – _when didn’t he? –_ and his efforts were rewarded with a string of barely coherent expletives and moans that made his mouth water and his dick twitch with the promise of what was to come. He liked when Roman made it clear that he was enjoying something. He made Zsasz work for it, but the payout was always fucking worth it.

He slid a finger easily into the slick heat and grinned into the inside of Roman’s thigh, nipping gently at the soft skin there.

“You get yourself ready for me, Daddy?” His middle finger joined the other without much resistance, slowly dragging in and out while he spoke. “Open yourself up in the shower while I was out slitting that bitch’s throat? Did you think about me killing her then coming back here with her blood on my hands and fucking you against every surface to show you who you belong to?”

“Victor.” The single word was strung out, breathy and high, barely more than a whine, but clearly a confirmation. Victor palmed his own erection, a spike of pleasure shooting through him at the image he’d conjured up. Maybe next time he would – bend him over the ridiculous table they both ate at, press him up against the windowpanes, suck him off on that stupid chaise longue… the possibilities were endless. 

“You want to see how much better I am than those sons of bitches? Lay back and enjoy the show.”

Roman’s erection was thick and straining under Victor’s tongue while nimble, calloused fingers continued stretching his hole. He lost himself to the moment; the only thing on his mind pleasing Roman beyond measure. There was nothing but the taste of sweet strawberry and bitter precum in his mouth, the sound of his own rushing blood and Roman’s panting in his ears; nothing but filling and being filled, carving out a space for himself that no one else was allowed to occupy, the body in front of him an altar no other was allowed to worship at. He could stay here for hours, for _days_ , kneeling between these legs, taking his time to become intimately acquainted with every inch of skin available to him.

Roman, of course, didn’t have that kind of patience.

“Fuck, it’s too much, baby. I can’t, I need -“

Victor cut him off, sitting up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He loved making a mess of Roman.

“I know _exactly_ what you need, and you’ll get it when I say so,” he snapped, bracing himself on one arm over Roman’s body, the other striking the wall with a flat palm at every emphasis, making the body beneath him tremble. “ _I_ take care of you, not those fucking whores; just _me._ ”

Roman whimpered and inhaled through his mouth, panting slightly.

“But don’t worry Daddy,” he smoothed a thumb over the worried lines in between Roman’s eyebrows. “I won’t keep you waiting _too_ long, but we’re nowhere near done.”

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Roman groaned, using it more as an expression than an order. Victor chuckled and ran his crooked teeth over his bottom lip.

“Oh I’m going to; gonna make you feel so good you’re screaming for me.” He pressed his body down against Roman’s, the other man immediately arching up to meet him.

“Yes, Jesus yes; do it.”

“Fuck, I have so many ideas for you, boss; you’ll be delirious by the time I’m done with you.”

“Get on with it then,” Roman gritted out, causing the other to laugh. So impatient, so needy, so entitled.

“Turn over, princess,” he ordered, smacking Roman’s flank and manhandling him over. He glared at the tease, but got into position without much direction from Victor, so desperate to have the other man inside of him. Victor hadn’t been lying, though. He’d barely begun.

He’d spent a not insignificant portion of his adult life listening to people beg - for their lives, for mercy, for forgiveness - but no one begged as pretty as Roman Sionis: back arched, legs spread, hands making fists in the sheets. It had the exact opposite effect than what Roman wanted, made Victor draw it out that much more just to see how far he could go.

Leaning forward to run his hands over Roman’s back, he made sure to exaggerate his movements, every shift of his body aimed at catching the head of his dick against Roman’s hole, but giving no relief to his cries. Roman tried in vain to grind his ass against Victor, searching desperately for the angle that would give him what he wanted, but Victor was relentless in his torture. Lube and sweat grew hot and sticky between them and he added even more, making sure Roman couldn’t get enough friction no matter how hard he tried. There was nothing but slick, wet heat and the perfect sound of deep breathing and guttural whines.

Victor pulled back to readjust the body under him like it was nothing more than a rag doll, pressing down hard between sweaty shoulder blades, squeezing meaty thighs to spread wider, grinding harder against the soft cheeks.

“Fuck Zsasz, put that cock inside of me right now,” Roman ordered, as if he had any control over the situation anymore.

“How bad do you want it? More than you wanted those worthless cocksuckers?” He punctuated the question with a smack to Roman’s ass, leaving a faint impression of his hand as blood rushed to the surface.

“Yes, _Jesus Christ_ Victor, do it.”

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait a little bit longer.” His hand came down hard in the same spot, blush blossoming red under the force of it.

“No, no please.”

“Tell me again and I’ll reconsider,” he whispered in Roman’s ear, already lining himself up to fuck into the man regardless of the next words out of his mouth. 

“Please pet, if you don’t put that gorgeous cock inside of me right this fucking minute I will lose my goddamn mind. I need it, god I need it.” The breath rushed out of him, finally feeling the fullness he’d been craving. “ _Yesyesyes_ so fucking perfect. So good for me, so, _so_ _good_.” Roman finally trailed off into incoherent sounds of bliss as Victor found a rhythm.

“See daddy? I know what you need; I give you everything you need.”

The sea of skin before him was beautiful in its stark contrast to his own – brushed with a spattering of freckles, but not a scar or bruise in sight, just the splash of redness across his perfect ass from Victor’s hand. The product of a lifetime of money and control; of a silver tongue and unrivaled ruthlessness. Victor ached to leave a more lasting mark on it, but he knew Roman wouldn’t approve no matter how far gone he was. But maybe...

He experimentally pressed his teeth against Roman’s shoulder, just a gentle pressure at first, then deeper when he wasn’t told to stop. Roman squirmed under him before reaching for the back of Victor’s head, pulling his mouth firmer against the tendons.

_Permission._

He ran his tongue over the indentations of his imperfect bite and pulled back to see it standing out amongst the flushed, freckled skin.

_Perfect._

He fucked into Roman hard, ripping a deep moan from the man, before getting to work littering his canvas with mouth-shaped bruises. Roman was going to feel him _everywhere_ tomorrow; he would make sure of it.

The idea was intoxicating; drowning Roman in himself the way he drowns in his boss every day. Roman was already everywhere for him – in his mouth, his lungs, his very core. Running through his veins, dripping from his pores, gnawing at him from the inside out. He was addicted, overwhelmed in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He was going to make Roman feel it too, even if just for a second, and he had the most exquisite idea of how to do it.

Victor reached out, blindly finding the lube and uncapping it one-handed, messily pouring some over his fingers.

“What’re you doing?”

_Of course he would notice the moment he didn’t have 100% of Victor’s attention._

“Getting myself ready to ride you.”

“ _Hell._ ” Roman writhed under him, knuckles turning white he gripped the sheet so hard. “I can’t, pet, I can’t. It’s too much –“

“Shh,” Victor ran a hand down his side, soothing. “You can, and you will. You’re going to let me come inside of you and then you’re going to let me ride you while you’re still full of my cum; while you can still feel me inside of you, dripping out of your sore hole, sliding between your thighs. And then, _maybe,_ when you’ve learned to appreciate everything I do for you, you’ll get your turn.”

“And what if I don’t?” He just couldn’t help himself – always contrary, regardless of the danger. Victor couldn’t help but laugh, the noise reverberating through their conjoined bodies. His pushed in deep, grinding against Roman until the other man was mewling and trembling.

“I’ve got nowhere else to be but between your legs for _at least_ the next twenty four hours. Imagine the things I could do to you in the course of a day…”

“You can’t say shit like that and then tell me not to come. It’s inhumane,” Roman complained, earning himself another round of spanking.

“I just killed someone for _touching_ you. I don’t care about what’s _humane_. Now stop whining like a brat and focus on not enjoying yourself too much.” He would never get away with a remark like that in the light of day, but in the heat of the moment, Roman’s focus entirely on getting what he wanted, it didn’t even register.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Roman grumbled under his breath, pouting while simultaneously pressing his body into Victor’s every touch.

Victor was good at multitasking, had to be in his line of work, his attention always needing to be in more than one place at a time. This though, this was pushing even his limits. Every second brought him closer to the edge, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. It felt too good, working himself open whilst being inside Roman, making him writhe and arch into every little movement of his hips. The man was so sensitive; it made Victor want to draw it out all night, to leave him begging and desperate until the sun came up, until he could barely breathe from the overstimulation. He wanted Roman ruined and wrecked beneath him, unable to think of anything but his pet.

He felt heat curling in his belly and let himself get lost in the feeling of Roman, around him, under him. His sucked on the salty skin of Roman’s shoulder, every taste, smell, sound pulling him closer to the edge. Roman moaned like he was dying – like every drag of Victor’s cock was a stab to the gut, an exquisite torture killing him in the slowest, most delicious way possible. Victor’s movements lost all rhythm, his focus narrowing down to the tight heat of Roman surrounding him as his orgasm rippled through his body.

Roman made the most delightfully needy sounds when Victor pulled out and rolled him onto his back. Victor half wanted to collapse next to him and give in to the sweet call of sleep, but Roman was clawing at him, begging for him, squirming under his hands, and it chased all thoughts of exhaustion from his mind.

He’d only ridden Roman a handful of times – the other usually preferring to bend Zsasz over the closest available surface whenever the mood struck, or fuck his mouth until he nearly blacked out – so he spent the first moments adjusting to the way Roman’s cock felt inside of his over-sensitized body and trying out the feel of different angles, focusing on the way Roman’s breath caught or his teeth clenched at the motions. It knocked the wind out of him, taking Roman’s cock so soon after coming. He felt ready to jump out of his skin, his own body full and overstimulated, teetering between pleasure and pain.

Roman’s patience ran out quick and he started to meet Victor’s exploring movements with force, driving himself deeper and deeper, speeding up the leisurely pace Victor was trying to maintain.

Soft hands grabbed at his thighs, stroked across the scarred landscape of his chest. One came to rest on the left side of his neck, where the first marks Roman himself had carved stood out thick and jagged against the rest of his skin. It didn’t matter how many times the boss touched them; it always sent a spark of arousal through him, especially since it usually happened leading up to or during sex.

“Fucking _hell_ you’re gorgeous,” Roman panted, looking strung out and in awe at the body above him. Victor would never get used to the way Roman looked at him when they were like this; like he was something to be admired. 

Zsasz stared down at the body beneath him, bright eyes, flushed skin, sweat beading on heated flesh.

“Bet my view’s better. It’s no wonder everyone in Gotham wants to get their hands on you,” he replied, running his own hands across Roman’s chest, through the thick patch of hair there, teasing hardened nipples with calloused fingers. 

“Too bad for them.”

“Very, _very_ bad for them,” Victor growled.

“What are you going to do? Kill them all?” Roman asked, like he didn’t already know the lengths his guard dog would go to for him.

Zsasz leaned down to whisper in his ear, the change of angle making his toes curl.

“Every last one of them, _for you, Daddy_.”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, head hitting the pillow as his body seized with tension, unable to find relief.

“ _Shit,_ you’re perfect pet. Absolutely perfect.”

He was already hard again, the words of praise going straight to his cock. No one else’s words affected him like Roman’s.

“Better than those cunts you hired?” He snarled, shifting his body to take Roman as deep as he could go.

“ _Yes_ , god yes, no one’s better than you.” Roman’s movements grew rougher, thrusting up to meet Victor with a force that he felt in his bones. He would still be feeling the impact of Roman’s hips hours from now. It was his second favorite ache in the entire world.

“Who takes care of you?”

“You do, baby.”

“Who else?”

Roman shook his head. Not a good enough answer. This time, the slap was hard enough to turn and press his head against the pillow.

“Who else!” He barked, hand striking the wall again with enough force to make the paintings on it shake. Roman’s hands tightened their bruising grip on his hips.

“No one, just you pet, only you. _Fuck,_ Victor, _please._ ” His whine was beautiful – high and breathy, needy but begging for once, not demanding. Victor could get drunk off that sound; indeed, he was riding a high the likes of which no designer drug in Sionis’ club had ever gotten him to before. 

He grabbed Roman’s chin, roughly turning his face to look at Victor. Sweat was shining on Roman’s skin, his hair a mess, his cheeks ruddy and eyes glazed, lips red and swollen from biting. He couldn’t resist pressing his luck a little more, risking another taste.

The kiss was less finesse and more a simple sliding together of lips and tongues, breathing in each other’s heated breath as they moved in unison. Roman didn’t let it last long, but a moment was enough. Victor’s mouth tingled with the forbidden contact, licking Roman’s saliva off his lips.

“Don’t _fucking_ forget it again. Now, what does Daddy want? What can _I_ do for you?”

“Make me come, please, please, I need it, _fuck_ I need you. _I need you.”_

“All you had to do was say so.” He grinned, moving his body to find the perfect angle to impale himself on as he built up to his own orgasm. He was right on the edge, despite having just come so recently. Roman was just too hard to resist – too gorgeous in his need, ready to take everything Victor had to offer and still beg for more like the greedy slut he was. 

“Oh fuck, yes just like that.”

He thought about making him wait even more; about finishing all over his chest then making Roman watch as he licked him clean. He’d leave the cock ring in place and go back down on Roman. Eat him out until Zsasz couldn’t taste himself on Roman anymore, then stuff him so full he could barely stand it – maybe all four fingers, or even his fist. Maybe that toy Roman had bought with more ambition than nerve. He’d swallow Roman down until he was choking and _then_ take it off. Let him finally come when he was a crying, begging mess.

He wanted to. _God he wanted to._

He definitely would, one day.

But Roman was reaching his limit and he was the one person in this world who Victor didn’t crave to see broken. If he was going to take Roman apart, he wanted to make sure he’d be able to put him back together afterwards. This was too new to try everything at once.

They had time.

He unsnapped the leather ring just as his own orgasm hit, the effect even more intense than he’d imagined.

His own pleasure exploded through his body, even better than before, and for once, he lost all awareness of his surroundings, of Roman, of everything but how good it felt to be filled so thoroughly. Roman’s loud wails barely registered in his periphery, neither did the force with which Roman was clutching at his thighs, holding on for dear life as his world shifted on its axis.

He came back to himself long before Roman did. Though his body was still shuddering through the aftershocks, his boss still seemed too blissed out to register anything else that was happening. Victor took his time memorizing the absolute and utter mess he’d made of Roman Sionis. He was more beautiful in that moment than any piece of expensive art in his collection. Victor would have taken a picture if he weren’t positive Roman would have cut off one of his fingers for doing so. Instead, he looked his fill, burning the image behind his eyelids, carving it into his memory.

As soon as his legs could hold him up, Victor got to work cleaning up their mess. He obviously couldn’t strip the entire bed, but he managed to pull off the top sheet around Roman’s slackened body without the man barely stirring. He retrieved a warm rag from the en suite and gently cleaned his boss up before giving himself a cursory wipe down. He’d shower when he got back to his place, if he didn’t pass out first. He picked the comforter up from the floor and draped it over Roman before returning to the bathroom to grab a bottle of pain killers and a cup of water for him to wake up to. Even with the massage, he was going to be feeling what Victor did to him for days.

The thought made Victor grin.

He placed the cup and meds on the nightstand, far enough away from the edge that if Roman started flailing in his sleep he wouldn’t knock it over, and moved to look for his discarded clothes when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist firmly.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Roman demanded, without opening his eyes.

“Nowhere, boss, just had to take a piss.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily, no desire to fight the assumption that he would stay. If that’s what Roman wanted, that’s what he would get.

Roman grunted, apparently satisfied with that answer, and shifted more towards the center of the bed, dragging the comforter down in an obvious invitation for Victor to join him. As soon as he settled, Roman arranged himself, his body a soothing warmth around Victor’s own chilly skin.

“Don’t think this makes up for your disobedience,” Roman mumbled against his throat. He’d known he wasn’t going to get away with it that easily, but there had been a sliver of hope that Roman would let it go, just this once. Apparently not. 

“Of course not, sir.”

He felt Roman’s smile against his skin at the obedience.

“You’ll still have to be punished. You’re not allowed to kill people I own without permission. It’s bad for business.”

“I know, sir.” He wasn’t going to apologize, and after a moment of silence Roman’s sigh told him that he knew it too. “My job is to protect you, even from people you own. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

“Oh is that what you were doing?” Roman teased, lips grazing his ear as he spoke. “Keeping me safe from wandering eyes?”

“And hands.”

Roman sighed again.

“Victor,” he warned, as stern as he could sound in his post-orgasmic state.

“Boss,” Victor replied, flatly.

“Promise me you won’t harm my things without permission.”

He thought about it. It had always been an implicit rule of his employment, but Victor didn’t usually care about things like rules if the urge struck him. But this was Roman, and the only thing stopping Victor from immediately acquiescing was Roman’s own wellbeing.

“What if your life was in danger?”

Roman grumbled and he knew without looking that his boss was rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Unless my life is in immediate danger, you are not to harm anyone I own without asking first, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Victor replied immediately, and he felt Roman settle back in beside him. 

“Good. Can’t have you forgetting who’s in charge here.”

“’Course not, _Daddy_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I hopefully don't have to say this but, this is an unhealthy relationship and definitely not how you negotiate kinks or get what you want.   
> Also, I don't own these characters, just the story.


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